


This Happy State of Affairs: Green, the Slash Remix

by hwshipper



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-05
Updated: 2009-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-07 12:05:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hwshipper/pseuds/hwshipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilson makes a new friend.  House is tickled pink.  Or not.<br/>Remix of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/Dee_Laundry/pseuds/Dee_Laundry"><b>Dee_Laundry</b></a>'s <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/89250">Green</a>, with her permission. Now with slash. Set late season 2.<br/><strong>Warning</strong>: Slut!Wilson alert!</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Happy State of Affairs: Green, the Slash Remix

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Green](https://archiveofourown.org/works/89250) by [Dee_Laundry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dee_Laundry/pseuds/Dee_Laundry). 



> Charlie Lutz is the creation of [**Dee_Laundry**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Dee_Laundry/pseuds/Dee_Laundry).  
> **Beta**: Enormous thanks to [](http://daisylily.livejournal.com/profile)[**daisylily**](http://daisylily.livejournal.com/)!

"Mind if I?--" Wilson broke off from his re-telling of a silly _Outer Limits_ episode to point at the half-eaten chicken salad sandwich on the table. The blond man opposite shook his head with a grin, flicking his hair back from his face. Wilson smiled back and dipped his eyes. He picked up the sandwich and took a bite; only to drop it in alarm as a long shadow fell across the table.

"Well, this is a cozy scene."

"House! How's it going?" Wilson picked up the sandwich and hoped he didn't look too guilty.

"We had _lunch plans_," House said.

_Shit_. "Damn, I'm sorry. I completely forgot--I had two new patients--" Wilson stopped, knowing that House wouldn't be interested in his reasons, which would in any case have been a lie. "Look, I'm sorry. Um, you won't have met Charlie Lutz." He gestured towards the man opposite. "Charlie's the new orthopedist, he started here a couple of months ago."

"I know you by reputation of course, Dr. House," Charlie said, shifting back in his seat and nodding at an empty chair nearby. "Pleased to meet you at last. I'm sorry Jimmy stood you up because of me, why don't you join us?"

Wilson wanted to shoot an annoyed glare at Charlie, but didn't dare. He really didn't want House to come trampling all over what had been a very pleasant and interesting lunch.

Fortunately, there was never any danger of House accepting the offer. "Fuck off, Blondie."

"House, no need to be rude!" Wilson didn't know who he was more annoyed at now.

"I'm not the one who stood up a _friend_," House shot back, and stalked away.

Charlie grinned and stretched in his chair. His foot unobtrusively nudged Wilson's under the table. "Man, are you ever in the doghouse."

Wilson sighed and bit into the sandwich again. "You know, you'll have to get used to this if..." He nudged Charlie's foot back.

"If?" Charlie raised a querying eyebrow.

"If you want to carry on...sharing sandwiches." _Sharing saliva_.

"Bring it on," Charlie said, eyes gleaming. "Let's see what he's got."

* * *

After the chicken sandwich was safely eaten, Wilson went to find House and after fifteen minutes of searching, found him in Coma Guy's room.

"Hey." Wilson walked in and closed the door.

"Do you mind? You're interrupting my lunch date. Coma guy's not much of a conversationalist, but at least he's there when he's wanted." House took a vicious bite out of his Reuben.

"I said I was sorry." Wilson perched on the arm of House's chair. He reached out to pick a chip out of House's bag, but House held it away from him, out of reach. "Are you mad because I stood you up, or because I was with someone else?"

House didn't reply; Wilson didn't need him to, and went on, "You _are _mad because I was with someone else. You know, unlike you, I do like people. Getting to know them is interesting. Conversation with them pleases me."

"Was today your first lunch?"

Wilson threw up his hands. "Why do I feel like I'm getting grilled by my wife? Oh, that's right, because I _am_."

House mouth twitched but he didn't reply. Wilson continued, "Well, because you _have _to know everything, here it is. We met about a month ago when he referred a patient with bone cancer. Nasty case, caught very late, secondary to lung cancer. That patient's already dead. We've had coffee once and lunch twice." _And one handjob and two blowjobs; one given, one received._ "We talk about patient care, office politics, sports, and TV shows. His turn-ons include--"

"That's enough. I don't need a life history."

_His turn-ons include fucking around with other people's boyfriends. _Wilson reached out and ruffled the top of House's hair lightly. "You don't have to be jealous."

"The hell I don't." House closed his eyes briefly as Wilson ran out of hair and gently flicked House's earlobe instead. "You looked like you were going to crawl over that table and into his pants any second."

Wilson shifted his weight on the chair arm to move closer to House, plucked a chip out of House's bag successfully this time, and muttered into House's ear, "What, when I could crawl into yours?"

Their lips met, and Wilson slid a hand inside House's shirt. House growled a little in his throat, and thrust his tongue inside Wilson's mouth.

They were too exposed in Coma Guy's room, though, even with the blinds closed. And in any case Wilson really drew the line at doing it in front of a patient, even a comatose one (although he knew House wouldn't balk at it). Wilson pulled back reluctantly and (knowing this wouldn't throw House off the scent, but hoping it might appease him a little bit), suggested, "Shall we go back to your place this evening?"

House nodded tightly, then grabbed his cane, got up and stalked out of the room.

* * *

Wilson cleared up House's lunch mess and left Coma Guy's room, only to run into Charlie again; Charlie had another case with a large tumor. Wilson went with him to see the patient, and after the consult the two of them made their way back to Wilson's office, passing House's office on the way, of course.

"Did you see them looking at us?" Charlie asked as they went into Wilson's office. "House's staff, I mean, in that conference room."

"Indeed. More to the point, did you hear that bang from House's office?" Wilson closed his own office door with a sigh, and snapped the lock shut. He then stepped over to the balcony door to check it was also shut, locked and with the blind drawn.

"He's suspicious of us," Charlie said.

"Of course he is. He would be even if this wasn't going on." Wilson stepped up towards Charlie and hooked an arm around Charlie's waist, crooking a finger around Charlie's belt buckle.

Charlie curled an arm around Wilson's shoulders, and Wilson luxuriated briefly in the warmth of the other man's body close to his. He reached up to cradle the back of Charlie's neck, drawing him closer, and they started necking; gently at first, then with increasing ferocity.

"Jealous boyfriend definitely adds something," Charlie muttered into Wilson's mouth. "Especially when he's only two doors away down the corridor--"

The thought of House two doors away gave Wilson's hard-on a sudden boost. "He's not _exactly _my boyfriend--"

"Whatever." Charlie bit Wilson's left earlobe gently, then dropped to his knees.

The sound of a zipper rent the air, then all the oxygen abruptly vanished from Wilson's office, leaving him gasping and clutching blindly at Charlie's blond locks.

* * *

Early on Wednesday, Wilson ran into Charlie in line for coffee in the cafeteria. After exchanging hellos, Charlie smiled and said, "Hey, the funniest thing happened to me this morning."

"Yeah?" Wilson said, preparing to smile.

"My parking space got re-designated as a handicapped space," Charlie said, trying to sound light-hearted but not altogether succeeding.

_Damnit_. "The weirdest things happen in that garage from time to time." Wilson knew he wasn't fooling Charlie by covering for House, but felt it necessary to try and save face for him nevertheless. "I'll have a word with Cuddy, sort it out."

The parking space was duly sorted out, although the pranks did not cease.

"The orthopedics department is a fun place to be these days," Charlie reported a week later, with a wintry smile. They were in Charlie's office, which was smaller than Wilson's and had no windows, although the latter was a bonus rather than a drawback.

Wilson listened to the list with apprehension: the lounge TV's channel changer locked onto the Spanish language soap channel; subscription to FHM taken out in the name of the (female) department head.

"Hey, if that's the best he can do," Charlie ended with a shrug. "I can put up with a few practical jokes. It's worth it--" he moved in to plant a soft kiss on Wilson's lips, then cupped Wilson's groin with a palm--"for this."

* * *

Monday afternoon, Wilson had clinic duty. And, he was dismayed to find, so did both Charlie and House.

The _Dr. House versus Dr. Lutz Clinic Duty Duel _which followed went down in hospital legend, largely thanks to Nurse Brenda who had the prime seat at the nurse's station to view the whole thing. She practically sold tickets to it in the process and was able to dine out on the tale for a long time afterwards.

House left Exam Room One bang on the end of shift, but Wilson found himself still there after hours in Exam Room Three, when Charlie joined him.

"Thanks for siding with me," Charlie said, pulling Wilson close, running strong fingers through Wilson's hair.

"It was the right medical analysis." Wilson didn't like to admit it, but House _could_ be wrong. Once in a blue moon.

"I guess the great Dr. House wasn't thinking clearly," said Charlie, fingers undoing buttons now, pulling at Wilson's belt buckle.

_And I guess that was because of me._ "Well, I don't always think clearly when you're --_Ah_." Wilson closed his eyes and stopped thinking in momentary bliss, as Charlie's hand reached his crotch and stroked his balls.

The following evening, Wilson found himself similarly trapped back in Exam Room One with House. House didn't mention the Clinic Duty Duel, but the competition was there all around them. It was present in the force of his tongue in Wilson's mouth, the swift finger fuck, the final frenzied thrust of his cock up Wilson's ass claiming vengeance against the absent orthopedist.

* * *

Over the next few days, things were surprisingly normal. House hooked up an Xbox to the oncology lounge TV and proceeded to thrash Wilson at _Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas_. Wilson had an oncology staff meeting, two actual consults with House, a fake clinic consult that engendered a lively debate on silicon vs. saline implants, and a coffee and a lunch with Charlie.

He also managed a close encounter with Charlie in the fourth floor janitor's closet, and a long slow fuck with House on a weekday night, which was very satisfactory. And no patients died, which actually made it a perfect few days.

House's public harassment of Charlie during the lecture series brought this happy state of affairs to an end. But Charlie's professional reputation was saved as Cuddy's tactic for defusing the fall-out was entirely successful; Wilson was asked by at least three different people if House had recovered from the fever that had rendered him delusional that day.

* * *

Wilson went to check on Charlie a few days later and was pleased to find out that the practical jokes had eased off and Charlie was in a genial enough mood to suggest an actual date.

"Hey, a friend of mine had something come up, and he gave me two tickets he didn't need to a Princeton game. College hoops, not Big Ten or anything, but should still be fun. Do you want to go?"

"Sure! Sounds good. When is it?"

"This Friday."

Wilson's face fell. Damn, not _Friday_. "Oh. I already have dinner plans Friday with, ah, someone."

"House, I presume? Well, you definitely can't break that date." Charlie chuckled, and winked. "It's OK; you and I'll make it another time."

"Indeed," Wilson said solemnly.

* * *

The Friday night dinner with House was relaxing, even fun. Wilson made dinner--a new stir-fry recipe that turned out well. House "made" dessert. "Ben and Jerry's a la House," he proclaimed, as he squirted a ridiculous amount of chocolate syrup on each of their ice creams.

They watched half a movie before adjourning to the bedroom. Wilson brought House to a gibbering climax with one thumb up House's ass and the other placed on the tip of House's cock at _just _the right moment; and as a reward Wilson got to top for the first time in a while. They did it on all fours, supporting House's weight underneath with pillows on the right hand side. Wilson started off intending to go slowly, but House's ass was tight and felt _God Oh God _so damn good, he ended up fucking House super-fast; the slap of House's buttocks against his thighs sounding loud in the room as they rutted in small, swift bursts.

"Fucking like bunnies," House panted as Wilson crashed onto the bed beside him afterwards.

"Huh, yeah," Wilson gasped.

"Like giant killer bunnies, maybe." House had had longer to recover from his own orgasm and become talkative again.

"Like in _Night of the Lepus_," Wilson remarked, between breaths. "Charlie says it is _the _definitive giant killer rabbit movie." Wilson realized later that his brain clearly hadn't regained enough function to engage with his mouth sufficiently at this point.

"_Charlie _says?" House picked up immediately.

"Yeah."

"So _Night of the Lepus_ is one of Charlie's turn-ons then?"

"What are you talking about?" Wilson's breathing had started to ease up. He began to realize that mentioning Charlie at that moment might have been a Bad Thing To Do.

"You said that you and Charlie talk about, and I quote, patient care, office politics, sports, and TV shows. _Night of the Lepus_ is none of those, so it must be one of his turn-ons."

"Well, it's been three weeks since I gave you that list. We've moved on since then. We've talked about, let's see…" Wilson flopped back on a pillow and began to count on his fingers. "Art. National politics. Movies. And the CRAZY CRAP you keep pulling on him."

"Well, isn't that sweet? You and your gal pal have so many things to chat about. Your cell bill must be humongous."

"Don't get off track. We're talking about you."

"No, we're not." House gave the duvet a tug, pulling it over himself and leaving Wilson cover-less and naked except for a condom, now long and limp. "You can go now."

"What?"

House let out a huge fake yawn. "Goodnight. Lock the door on your way out."

"You're joking." Wilson gestured helplessly around the room, at House, at himself.

"You're not spending the night here dreaming about humping Charlie Boy."

"Look, we should talk about this--"

"No," House replied, his voice suddenly sharp. "No, we really shouldn't. I know you periodically like to indulge the fourteen-year old girl you have living inside you, but I'm not interested in a long heart-to-heart on my feelings, your feelings, and, for Christ's sake, the feelings of Dr. Giant Killer Rabbit himself."

"Fine." Wilson garnered all his strength to haul himself out of bed. He gathered his clothes together--they were mostly in the living room rather than in the bedroom--and dressed quickly. Half-way home he realized he'd left his jacket behind. _Screw it,_ he thought, _let him keep the damn thing_.

* * *

With hindsight, Wilson knew it had been hopelessly optimistic to think all was forgiven when he found the jacket hanging neatly on his office chair on Monday morning. Nevertheless, it could have been a lot worse than finding a pocket full of rhinestones. And it was fun punching out a pink rhinestone heart shape and "XOXO Greg" to leave in Cameron's mailbox. It was even more fun seeing Cameron's beaming face the next day.

House's next move was against Charlie, however, and Charlie had reached the end of his patience. Wilson found him in his office one morning a couple of days later, with his desk covered in confetti two inches thick.

"Look, Jimmy, you're a good guy. I like you. But I don't need this." Charlie swept confetti off his desk. "He _keyed _my _car_. Or caned it, probably." Confetti flew past the can and onto the carpet. "Oh, and there's this."

Charlie swiveled his computer monitor around so Wilson could see it. The usual standard boring Princeton Plainsboro screensaver had been replaced by multiple pairs of rabbits merrily humping away at each other, little bunny cotton tails bobbing furiously up and down.

"And I haven't yet managed to find either the mouse or keyboard in all this crap to get rid of it," Charlie went on, gesturing at the confetti. "I'm trying to decide whether he's your boyfriend or your rottweiler."

"My what?"

The trash can thumped onto the desk. "Rottweiler. Breed that is fiercely intent on, and protective of, its owner. Won't give anyone else the time of day and becomes insanely jealous when the owner's attention is distracted. Yeah, we can go with that."

"It's…" Wilson didn't actually know what to say next, so he trailed off.

Charlie sighed. "Sorry, I just don't need this. I have a lot going on right now. The wife's finally joining me in Princeton, there's all kinds of issues to deal with, I'm trying to sort out the house and furniture before Charlie gets here--"

"I didn't know-–you didn't mention--wait." _Wife?_ "'Charlie?'"

"Yeah, I know, same name, vaguely narcissistic for a spouse, isn't it? We even sort of look alike, put us in matching T-shirts and jeans-–but don't distract me!" Charlie threw up his hands, in a gesture halfway between _halt_ and _I give up_. "I feel stupid even saying this, but this is too difficult. With what's going on at home, I can't handle any more drama in my life right now."

Wilson opened his mouth and then closed it again.

Charlie turned back to his desk, and added quietly, not looking at Wilson, "Unless you can get House to lay off, we shouldn't see each other anymore. I'm sorry."

_Great_. Wilson lifted his eyes to the ceiling before replying, "Sure." He knocked the door frame on the way out, imagining it was House's head.

* * *

Wilson deliberately avoided House over the next few days, knowing House would recognize this as a punishment. Unfortunately, Wilson was losing out twice over as Charlie was avoiding him too. This deprived state of affairs could _not _continue indefinitely.

Eventually Wilson gave up on devising complicated arguments which he knew would make him sound like a smothered husband or a pissy little girl, and went for the simple confrontation. He found House in his office, busy bouncing his over-sized tennis ball off the walls.

"You need to leave Charlie alone," Wilson said.

House bit his lower lip as he executed a complicated wall-ceiling bounce. "Me? What reason would I have to do anything to the great Dr. Charlie Lutz?"

"You have to cut him some slack," Wilson urged, knowing the appeal to reason was close to pointless with House, but trying anyway. "He's got a lot of stress in his life right now. His wife's just joined him in Princeton, they're setting up their home together--"

Unexpectedly, this stopped House mid-bounce. The ball flew past his hands and rebounded off the edge of his desk into a corner. "His _wife?_ Not... boyfriend?" House queried. "Or life partner?"

"Wife."

"He thinks he's straight? Well, why didn't you say so?" House's expression cleared. He picked up a medical journal from his desk and started to flip through it, apparently genuinely relaxed. "Go forth and have lunch. You've got my blessing."

Wilson put his hands on his hips and stared at House in disbelief. "You're going to let me be--_friends--_with him because he's got a wife?"

"Sure," House said cheerfully. "Nothing to worry about, is there?"

"And since when has being married stopped anything?" With three marriages behind him, none of which had done more than momentarily stall his relationship with House, Wilson knew what he was talking about. He knew House would too.

House snorted. "Irrelevant. It's his intentions that matter, not yours. Even if you _are _fucking him, with a wifey at home it's not going to become anything serious or long-term. She'll haul his ass back in as necessary."

Wilson stood opening and shutting his mouth for a couple of minutes before gaining the presence of mind to storm out of the room.

* * *

Two peaceful weeks later, Charlie finally consented to have lunch with Wilson again; and when House breezed past their table cheerfully, pausing only to steal a fry from Wilson's plate, Charlie asked Wilson to dinner at his home that Friday.

Wilson turned up with a bottle of wine, ready for a polite evening with nice food and pleasant conversation with Dr. and Mrs. Lutz (Charlotte, he assumed), and absolutely no mention of past blow jobs in the clinic. He rang the doorbell.

Charlie answered with a wide grin. "Hey, you made it."

"Despite your directions, yeah." Wilson grinned back and stepped inside.

And then another man appeared in the hallway behind, wearing an apron and holding a dishcloth. Wilson gave a small start. He looked a lot like Charlie: same shade of blond hair, same shape to the face, close to the same height.

"This is Charlie," Classic Charlie did the introductions. "Yeah, same name, we look alike, it's funny."

"Uh, hi." Wilson smiled as broadly as he could and shook hands with New Charlie, hoping his surprise wasn't evident. "And you're--husband and wife?"

Classic Charlie laughed, and said to New Charlie, "I'm sorry, honey, I shouldn't call you that." Then, to Wilson, "We got married in the state of Massachusetts when we lived there a few years ago. He gets to be the wife because he's the one who cooks and cleans--it's awful stereotyping, I know. I must stop it."

"Ignore my unreconstructed husband, Jimmy," New Charlie said. "Very pleased to meet you. Excuse me, I must just get the lasagna before it burns--" He opened a door and a cloud of steam greeted him. He vanished inside.

Classic Charlie took the wine from Wilson's rather weak grip. "Thanks, let's open this in the living room." He headed towards another door.

"Thanks for inviting me," Wilson said sincerely, following him in. "And, uh, by the way, if House asks, you're straight."

"Um, okay. Why?"

Wilson's eyes closed and his face contorted briefly. "Because he's insane."

* * *

A short while later, New Charlie appeared in the living room, the dishcloth now flung over his shoulder. "Crisis over. Lasagna saved. Time for wine." As Classic Charlie poured a glass, New Charlie sat down next to Wilson and said, with a wink, "I've been _so _looking forward to this. Charlie's told me all about you."

"Really?" Wilson didn't quite believe that.

"Oh yes." And New Charlie put a hand on Wilson's thigh.

Some time after dinner, when Wilson was sprawled naked on Charlie &amp; Charlie's king-size mattress, with Classic Charlie's cock up his ass and New Charlie's in his mouth, he decided he _did _believe Classic had told New all about him after all.

END


End file.
